fourth ≫ lucaya

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≪ COFFEE SHOP ≫

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≪ COFFEE SHOP ≫

• lucas

I looked at the time on my phone, and the second I did, I was beyond ecstatic. It was almost time for her to come in—she came in the same time everyday.

Some might say it was ridiculous to fall in love with a girl who I didn't even know the name of, but those people could shut their mouths. I was the only person who knew how I felt, and how I felt was in love with the blonde beauty that came into the coffee shop at the same time every single day to write in her journal.

After having watched her come into the shop everyday for the past year, you'd think I'd have gained enough courage to talk to her by now, but that wasn't the case. In fact, talking to her was the scariest thing that came to mind when I thought about my biggest fears. Because if she didn't find me interesting enough, she wouldn't like me, and she would reject me.

The bell above the door rang, indicating that someone had walked in. I abruptly craned my neck to the door, spotting her walking in. Her blonde curls cascaded over her shoulders in a lovely way, she had her journal tucked between her arm and her side, and she wore a black dress with white accents. She glanced in my direction, and for a moment, I thought she would file a restraining order for me staring at her, but that wasn't the case. Sending me a small smile, she sat down at her usual table, flicking her notebook open and beginning to write in it.

And that was when I knew.

I knew that it was my duty to discover what was in that book of hers.

It'd been about an hour, which meant she was going to be leaving soon, and I still hadn't come up with a plan to find out what type of things she wrote in her journal. More importantly, I couldn't figure out a plan to discover why she always wrote in her journal at the coffee shop.

I couldn't stop staring at her. With her beautiful blue eyes, her full lips, and those golden curls, she was the most exquisite creature ever—if only I was lucky enough to know her. I felt like one of those love sick girls who sighed dreamily over Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic.

Not that I'd ever watched that movie...

Anyways...

"Hey!" I was snapped out of my thoughts when I noticed a woman with red hair and an angry expression standing at the counter.

I cleared my throat, "Oh, uh, sorry. What can I get for you today?"

"White chocolate mocha," she answered dryly.

"Okay, I'll-"

"Wait!" She held up a finger, signaling for me to hold on. "I actually don't want a white chocolate mocha. I think I'll take a French vanilla cappuccino."

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